The new ghostly stories contest is doing well with a first entry already today.  As I've done in the past with the TWC, I'm creating this thread (locked ) for the entries we have for the ESP and will post the first submission right after this post.

May those who want to submit have terrible nightmares to help them in writing something creepy.      <-- this last smiley is about as scary as you can get 

This first entry is by our newest forum member, Ted:

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In the Night...
 
There was a light, but insistent tapping on the very top of my head. I tried to stay asleep, but knew the tapping would continue until I responded.

"Jack, wake up. Jack. Jack are you awake?" The tapping continued. "There's something outside. Can you hear it?"

"It's not time to get up." The tapping continued. There was always something, a spider, a coyote in the arroyo, a dripping, the 'fridge, never anything really worth...

"Get up. Go look."

So there I was walking across the brick toward the front door, stark naked, except for my white socks. I could hear her starting to snore her quiet falling to sleep snore. It was very dark; the night lights were off; there was no moon, just darkness.

Then something luminous, a faint white glow, a misshaped, naked man stood outside on the freezing concrete deck, staring toward the window. I could feel him thinking, struggling with words & pictures. Fear. Then he disappeared.

I waited. Nothing. I opened the front door & peaked out toward the window. The soft white glow was crouched below the window on the ground shivering. I could hear the breathing of dogs, & whispering. "It's gotta be here. 'Round here somewhere." The arroyo started to light up; police lights started flashing on the road on the other side of the arroyo.

It looked up at me, with its almost human, skeletal face, pleading. I had a UFO, being abducted, being an experiment on a ship far, far away vision. But the glowing face, with its black, but bright eyes, pushed away the chrome & the test tubes. I could feel the word, "Friend."

I opened the door wider, & stepped outside into the cold, knowing my naked old manself would drive any human to run away. I felt warm. The flash lights were coming closer. I could feel, "What should I do?"

I wanted to step inside & close the door, but instead gestured for it to come inside. It didn't move. The brush just yards away was crackling with footsteps. I moved further outside. It didn't move. I couldn't speak. My mind was shouting, "Get inside!" It didn't move; I felt our heads touch. My mind stopped its shouting, & saw it slither into the house.

Once inside, I closed the door silently. It was huddled, glowing, against the white wall on the cold bricks. I sat on a chair across from it. Outside the lights began to fade, & again there was her light snoring in the silence; we both were shivering. It didn't move; our heads touched.

I felt the craft going out of control, becoming lost, landing, then burrowing itself into the arroyo. Outside the air was chokingly thick & cold & black. The only light was the faint glow of my body. I made myself warm & walked in silence amongst the eyes of the night.

Noise & lights! I hid. They were circling. I could hear in the distance the faint buzzing, the buzzing I hear now, close by - her light snoring.

"It's safe?

Yes, it's safe now."

I opened the door & let it out. "Thank you. I'll be back."

-Jack

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Our second entry received on the 12th (so I'm a few days late posting it) is from susie:

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Branching Out

"Don't worry," said Doug in a raspy, painfully weak voice.

"Plant this acorn in our backyard to make an oak tree grow. When it reaches

the top of our roof, I will return."

    His wide-eyed family looked at each other in awed wonder. He looked

so frail, they knew in their hearts he would be gone soon. When they looked

back at him, he was dead. Martha shut his eyes and they buried him in the

local cemetery.

    Most folks were afraid of Doug, as he dabbled in black magic. His family

only knew that he was a kind, gentle man who smoked too many of those

home-grown cigarettes.

    Wails from the children could be heard for days, but Martha did as she was told.

She planted the acorn her beloved husband had given her. Each year, on the anniversary

of his death, they said a prayer for him and watched the tree grow higher and higher.

They tried to resume their regular life, but without Doug, it was a huge effort. Martha

continued to sew for the neighbors, the children attended the red, brick schoolhouse.

The days and nights dragged on as if they were in eternal damnation.

    On Doug's tenth anniversary of his death, the tree was as tall as their dilapidated roof.

"Well," said Martha joyously. "Finally, we shall be seeing your father tonight."

They clapped their hands chanting, "Daddy's coming home! Daddy's

coming home!"

    Martha and the children hadn't gone to bed yet, waiting up for him to open

the front door. As soon as he did, they screamed.

    "Noooooooooooooo!"

    It was the image of him, but an apparition. He had reed-like

branches coming out of his every socket. His corpse-like body

reeked of decay.

"Oh, my God!" Martha cried.

The children ran into the closet, huddled together, lost and

petrified..

    As he wrapped his branches tightly around Martha, he said

with a yellow-brown stained, tooth-missing grin, "Honey,

I'm home!"